Persona ARCHETYPE
by Mister Zer0
Summary: There are things more frightening than having to fight Shadows in order to save the world from annihilation. Unfortunately, boarding school can be one of them. (Cast is almost entirely OC.)
1. Dreams, Reality, and Something Between

Since I need something to pad out the start of each chapter so that it doesn't screw up the formatting on the epigraph, here's a completely pointless disclaimer containing information that should surprise nobody: all the SMT Persona stuff in this belongs to Atlus, I'm not trying to steal it and make my own game or anything, etcetera etcetera.

* * *

><p><em>"...I'm just one of the many students here."<br>-Harold Westbrook_

* * *

><p><em>September 8, 2014<em>

Vicki Long had never thought of herself as a bad girl, not in the sense the term was typically used. Perhaps a bit too willing to put down those lower than her on the social hierarchy that, despite the best efforts of its staff, had nevertheless formed among the students of Westbrook Academy. It was a fault she would admit to, if reluctantly; and always holding to the defense that if she did not go along with the crowd, she would become its next victim.

Clearly, though, whatever was chasing after her had no interest in listening to that defense.

It seemed as though she had only just emerged from the coffee shop when the bizarre entity had made itself known; a blob of black, it seemed at first, with a faint red blotch at around waist height. It was not until it hurtled towards her faster than she thought possible, and the red blotch revealed itself to be a mask, that she realized the danger she was in.

There was nobody else nearby; it was past closing time for the coffee shop, it door locking behind Vicki as she existed. And the lone streetlight that should have illuminated the environs had been extinguished, its illumination disappearing with a loud pop the moment she first noticed her hunter.

And so Vicki ran, fleeing from the small town's streets into the surrounding woods. Whatever chased her was no animal; with luck, she thought, her pursuer would meet their match in the twisted trees and shadows. Once she had escaped, she could return to the dorms, protected by high walls and what she found herself desperately hoping would prove to be working lights.

It wasn't until a black hand grabbed her ankle, an unnatural chill causing her to stumble and trip over an exposed root, that she realized her error.

The black creature loomed over her as she turned. Vicki still could not identify her attacker; there was precious little light to reveal her surroundings. All that was certain was that although it was no beast of the forest, neither was it human; nearly a dozen arms reached out from its form, some with hands whose fingers ended in claws that gleamed in the pale moonlight, sharper than any of the swords that the school's fencing instructor used. For an instant, she counted herself lucky that such a hand was not the one that grabbed her, although she realized in the next instant that it was not likely to remain so for long.

The creature lifted an arm, and Vicki struggled to keep from closing her eyes in fear. For some reason she could not put into words, she was suddenly determined not to give whatever entity had chased her the satisfaction. If she was to die, she suddenly felt, let it be without flinching.

And so, when the arm failed to cleave her head from her neck, she knew why: it had instead gone flying from the body of the creature in a flash of steel.

Vicki did not know when the newcomer had arrived, but she was grateful regardless. It was a man; or at least, he appeared to be a man, if young and wearing a long coat of what appeared to be gray leather. From where he stood his face was not visible, although there was likely not enough light for it to matter anyway. In his right hand he held a thin-bladed sword with an ornate hilt of wirework, and in his left a phone. The screen shone just brightly enough that she could tell that her savior wore leather gloves, the same gray as his coat.

"You shall not claim her, shadow," the newcomer said. His voice was masked, the electronic distortion like something out of a TV show. "Flee, or perish by my hand."

Undaunted by his bravado, the creature lashed out with three of its arms, but the newcomer was too fast. The first he dodged around, and the others he sliced through, the severed limbs bubbling away into nothingness as they fell to the earth. A guttural hiss rose from whatever the creature had for a throat as new arms grew outward to replace them.

"They never flee," the newcomer said with a hint of resignation before raising his phone, the screen facing towards the black blob. Its light gave Vicki the first chance she had to truly see her attacker; it was a mass of inky shadows, a red theater mask in the shape of a laughing face sliding across its form. "Marduk!" the newcomer screamed, and the phone began to glow brighter than she thought possible from any such device.

The light became a burst that forced Vicki to cover her eyes, and when it faded, the newcomer had been joined by what she could only describe as a giant of a medieval knight, standing some nine feet. Its armor glowed a faint purple, and it held a sword longer than she was tall in one hand and a shield just as large in the other.

The knight lifted its sword with impossible ease and pointed the tip of its blade at the shadow-thing. It shrank back ever so slightly, as though preparing to flee, but before it could, a burst of flame rose from the ground, engulfing it. An inhuman scream pierced the air, and then there was silence, the flames consuming every trace of the shadow-thing before dying away.

The new arrival turned to face Vicki as the knight lowered its sword. She still could not identify her savior; the bulk of the man's dark-skinned face was concealed beneath a white mask that reminded her of a butterfly. "Who...who are you?"

"Someone who can fight those things," the man said. "If you need a name, call me Monarch."

"What the hell are they?" Vicki asked.

"It's a long story," Monarch said as Marduk circled around behind Vicki, facing outward from the pair. "Stay low. I don't think it was out here alone."

An echoing, inhuman roar served to confirm those words as three new shadow-creatures leaped forward from the darkness of the woods. Rather than red masks, theirs were blue and shaped into a crying face rather than laughing; but otherwise, they looked and moved the same as the first. One of them held back, while the other two charged towards Vicki from either side.

Monarch was the first to act, the thin sword stabbing forward and piercing the mask's left eye. The creature let out a bubbling hiss before exploding into a small cloud black dust that soon became nothing. Marduk had already moved to stop the other, his sword cleaving the creature in two. Both halves soon met the same fate. The last of the three seemed to think better of joining its compatriots, instead electing to turn and fleeing into the woods.

"Th…" Vicki started to say, but found herself unable to finish the word, let alone the sentence, as a wave of exhaustion struck like a blow from a champion boxer. Her knees wobbled, her vision blurred, and she was unconscious before she hit the ground.

* * *

><p>Adam Burton was not someone who often remembered his dreams. To be sure, he would know that he had dreamt upon awakening. Sometimes he might even retain a few shreds of whatever tapestry his unconscious mind had woven, although they rarely lasted for more than a few minutes before fading into nothingness. But to recall the bulk of a dream...this had never been a common occurrence during the sixteen years that he had thus far lived.<p>

And yet, as he gazed upon the blue walls of the chamber he now stood within, the high school student knew that this was a dream he would remember in its entirety.

This struck Adam as peculiar at first, for even he was aware of the difficulty of remaining within a dream after recognizing it as such. Nevertheless, the dream did not waver, and after a moment he allowed himself to take in the chamber.

It was not a large chamber, perhaps the size of a school classroom. Blue velvet curtains hung from each wall, and the floor was blue marble of the same shade. Two dozen long wooden benches, each polished and stained a dark brown that was very nearly black, lay arranged in a chevron pattern that opened up in front of a lectern that rose seamlessly from the floor.

A man stood behind the lectern, although his back was turned to Adam. He was a short man, and very nearly bald. White hair framed the sides of his head, some of the longer strands falling against a well-tailored black suit. He was silent and unmoving, as though his attention was elsewhere.

Adam started to walk towards the man at the lectern, but before he could make it past even one of the benches, the man turned around to face the dreamer. His nose was long; impossibly so, Adam thought; and his eyes were all but inhuman: bulging, bloodshot, and lacking any visible iris.

The man at the lectern made a sweeping gesture with his right arm as he bowed to greet Adam. "Welcome to the Velvet Room, young man," he said, pressing a white-gloved hand to his chest. "My name is Igor, and you...well, you are not what I would call an entirely expected guest. No matter. Please, have a seat."

Adam settled in at a bench to his left as Igor continued to speak from the lectern. "It is odd that you have been sent to this place. His interests in...well, it is not my place to question the one I serve. He did wish that you be brought here..." The elderly man suddenly stopped and narrowed one of his eyes, peering closely at Adam. "And you do seem to have the potential."

"Where am I?" Adam asked. _Sleeping_, he thought to himself, a reflexive answer that he nevertheless knew was not the one he sought.

"As I told you earlier," Igor said, "you are currently within the Velvet Room. It is a place of my master's creation, existing outside both dream and reality, beyond the conscious and the unconscious." He gave Adam a brief, toothy smile, before continuing. "Not all people can perceive this place, even in their dreams. Only those with a certain rare gift..." He trailed off. "But perhaps I overstep my bounds. He only just informed me of your coming, after all, and from what I was told I can only assume that you know nothing of this gift."

Adam frowned. "What gift?"

"You will learn soon enough, young man," Igor said before reaching into his breast pocket and retrieving a small item. "Of this, I am quite certain. But for now, let me ask you: do you believe in destiny?" He opened his hand, revealing the item to be a box of Tarot cards.

The frown on Adam's face deepened at the question. "Of course not."

"But there is so much it can teach us," Igor said as he opened the box and began to draw cards from it. As he spoke, he showed Adam each card before releasing it. Rather than fall to the ground, though, they floated in front of Igor, defying whatever the dream apparently had instead of gravity. "After all, even if one controls their own fate..." The Fool, although its close-cropped black hair made the figure resemble Adam himself. "It is still necessary to decide what that fate should be." The Emperor, but with a young, clean-shaven man of African descent wearing a gray suit and tie rather than an elderly white man in a red robe. "For if we do not strive to shape the world into what we wish for it to become..." Death, although the red-haired woman sitting atop the horse was nevertheless anything but dead. "We will instead find ourselves shaped by it." Justice; a brunette seated on a brownstone throne, holding a book and a noose instead of a sword and scales.

"I don't understand," Adam said. Igor simply smiled and returned the cards to their box, and the box to his breast pocket.

"As I said before, you will, soon enough. Perhaps I will even be the one to aid you in this understanding...so long as you agree to this." Igor lifted a sheet of paper from the lectern and handed it to Adam.

The youth read over the paper. _I, the undersigned, hereby swear and affirm that I choose of my own free will the fate that lies before me, and that lies before all those who follow me. I swear and affirm that I shall abide by the consequences of my choice, and all choices to come as a result..._ "What the hell is this?"

"A contract," Igor said. "It should be straightforward enough; you simply acknowledge that what you do, you do without coercion. And that what happens because of what you do, you will accept."

Adam looked over the contract again, then back to Igor. "But what about what you said before that? About deciding one's own fate?"

"That is precisely the point, young man," Igor said. "To choose your fate is to choose the consequences of that fate. But if you are confused, you need not sign just yet. After all, we will meet again."

"When?" Adam asked.

"When it is time for you to be shown the mask which you have so long worn," Igor said in reply. "Now, if you are not going to sign the contract until then, I'm afraid I must ask you to leave. There is much work that needs to be done. My master can be quite insistent about certain matters, you see. He is not someone I wish to disappoint. Farewell, Adam Burton."

The world dropped out from beneath Adam as he awoke.

* * *

><p>In a dark room that both did and did not exist, the young man who had called himself "Monarch" earlier that evening removed his mask and let out a breath.<p>

"It's getting worse. The Shadows have begun to leak into my world, and they're just as aggressive as they are in yours. I found a pack of four chasing one of the other students. Almost didn't save her."

The other man in the dark room stood, expressionless, from across a black marble table that served as the only visible furnishing. His skin was as pale as Monarch's was dark, with long brown hair tied into a ponytail and a mask that could have been a twin to the one that had just been removed. Instead of a gray leather coat, he wore a black shirt and pants that almost seemed to be a single article of clothing. "What would you have me do?" he asked in a tone that lacked any trace of emotion.

"Since you won't fight them directly for God knows what reason," Monarch said with a frustrated tone, "I would _have_ you point me to the source, or at least tell me what I can do to keep the Shadows from entering my world."

"I cannot," the other man said. "I am bound by my role, just as you..."

"Don't give me that crap!" Monarch said, slamming his right hand, open-palmed, against the table. "A girl could have died tonight! If you want me to keep that from happening, you'd better..."

"I had 'better' do what?"

The room stood silent for a moment. "You really don't care, do you?" Monarch finally asked in a quiet tone.

"Do you care?" the other man said.

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?" Monarch said, anger returning to his voice. "Of course I care! I wouldn't be this pissed off if..."

"Then I must care as well," the other man said. "It is as Marduk told you when first you called him forth."

Monarch rolled his eyes. "So what, you care, but you're not going to do anything that makes it look like you care?"

"I have already acted in ways that 'make it look like I care'," the other man said. "I cannot act openly against the Shadows, because to do so would invite a far greater threat into this reality. Instead, I granted you my mask, and bade you act in my stead. The true enemy sees this, and knows that I am prepared to act should my hand be forced."

"And that's why you can't tell me anything other than 'monsters called Shadows want to kill everyone, I'll give you a magic smartphone app that can stop them'?"

The other man shook his head. "You know that the power of Persona is not..."

"Of course I know that," Monarch said. "The sea of my soul, etcetera etcetera. The point is, why is that information something you can't share?"

"Were I to explain why it is forbidden for me to reveal the knowledge you seek," the other man said, his voice still emotionless, "that would itself require me to reveal forbidden knowledge. But you need not fear the Shadows, young general. You have already found your army, and soon, your army will have its champion. His journey is only just beginning, but..." For the first time, the other man's expression changed, becoming a smile. "There are powers in this universe that smile on those such as he."

"My 'champion' had better get here quick, then," Monarch said. "The full moon is tomorrow, and now that I've figured out that the Shadows are tied to the lunar cycle - something else you said was forbidden knowledge, by the way - I think I can safely assume that we'll want his help sooner rather than later."

"I can promise you this," the other man said. "You will indeed meet him before the sun next sets."

* * *

><p><em>September 9, 2014<em>

"The Westbrook Academy is a school with a fascinating history behind it."

The man speaking to Adam Burton was not as ancient-looking as the man from his strange dream, but he was nevertheless old. Easily in his seventies, Adam felt, with thinning gray-white hair and silver-rimmed round glasses that framed a face as narrow as the rest of him. The black suit and bolo tie he wore only served to heighten the fact that the man looked, simply put, exactly how you would expect a man with the position of "boarding school headmaster" to look.

"Abraham Westbrook was born in the deep South, a black child in an area where Jim Crow laws were the order of the day. Orphaned at a very young age, he was placed in a home run by a group of Catholic nuns who impressed on him at a very young age the importance of a good education. As an adult, he used this education..."

The elderly figure escorting Adam on a tour of the Westbrook Academy campus continued his lecture, but the youth had ceased to pay much attention. He already knew the rest, after all. Westbrook founded what would eventually become a regionally prominent electronics chain before being acquired by Best Buy, and used the money to fund a school that 'would ensure that he would not be the only child of humble beginnings to benefit from a quality education'.

"...to benefit from a quality education," the headmaster continued. _Yes_, Adam thought to himself, _he's just quoting the pamphlet. Figured as much._ "Half of the students here are much like yourself: children at the peak of their school's academic rankings, but whose parents lack the finances necessary to..."

And again, Adam returned to ignoring the headmaster. For a moment he thought the man might deviate from his plainly memorized speech, but that was apparently not going to be the case: like the school's founder, it seemed, Adam Burton was himself an orphan. It had only been a few months since his parents died in that car accident: the very same day he had been notified that he had been accepted to Westbrook Academy, as fate would have it.

It made things easier, Adam had to admit; his aunt had been named his legal guardian, and as much fun as he had always had whenever she visited, even Adam could tell that the woman was ill-suited to act as a mother. To his parents, Westbrook Academy was an opportunity that he might never again see the equal of; to his aunt, the Academy was a lucky break.

Adam turned the corner of the hallway, and barely stopped himself from running into the headmaster; the man was speaking to another student, a black teenager in a... "...gray suit and tie," Adam found himself whispering, just loud enough for the headmaster to hear.

"Ah, good, there you are. I'd like you to meet someone." The headmaster stepped to one side. "This is Harold Westbrook, Abraham's great-grandson. He's a junior here, like you. Harold, this is one of our new students, Adam Burton." Harold offered a hand in greeting, and acting entirely on social instinct, Adam shook it. _He was on the Emperor card in that dream_, Adam thought to himself. _How is that...?_

"It's good to meet you," Harold said. "Anyway, Headmaster..."

"Please," the headmaster replied. "Call me Peter. Or Mr. Kells, if you must."

Harold shook his head. "No, Headmaster. I don't want any special treatment. While I'm at the Academy, I'm just one of the many students here."

"But I can't just..."

"You can, and you will, Headmaster," Harold insisted. "My great-grandfather wanted this school to be free of all class hierarchy. If you won't respect my wishes, then respect his."

"I...I'll try," Headmaster Kells replied. "But it's just...well, your family has done so much for this school."

"My family," Harold said. "Not me. I haven't done anything yet besides spend my sophomore year within these walls."

The headmaster opened his mouth, for a moment, then closed it again. "If you insist. If you wouldn't mind doing one favor, though, could you finish showing Adam around the school for me? I should get back to my office."

"If you insist," Harold said, to which the headmaster nodded. "Very well, then. I leave Adam in your capable hands." As he turned and walked away, Harold rolled his eyes. "I swear, he always does that."

"What?" Adam asked. "Round up other students to do stuff he doesn't have time for?"

"No...well, that too," Harold admitted. "He always makes me talk like that. If I don't sound like some stuffed shirt, he acts like I'm disrespecting my family." He sighed, then grinned faintly. "Normally, I'd make a crack about old white guys right about now, but I'm not sure how you'd take it."

Adam chuckled. "For the next fifty years or so, I'd say it doesn't apply to me, so go ahead."

"I'll keep that in mind," Harold said, allowing his grin to widen. "Come on, I've got some friends I want you to meet."

* * *

><p>Harold's path to his friends led Adam through several hallways and sets of doors, giving the new arrival time to observe the other students. The mixture was far more wide-ranging than at Adam's old school, something that Harold soon seemed to realize Adam had noticed.<p>

"It's a quirk of how the scholarship system is set up," he said. "If you're in the top ten percent of your school and below the median income for your area, you're allowed to apply. And given that you don't get many schools with a real mix of black kids and white kids anymore, let alone..." He stopped suddenly, both in speech and footsteps. "I'm starting to talk like that again, aren't I? Going to lose my street cred if I keep it up."

"You have street cred?" Adam asked.

"I'm a black kid in what would be a small town were it not for the Academy," Harold said. "It's one of those 'until proven otherwise, and probably even then' deals."

"Odd how they're all dressed, though," Adam said. "It's like eight different uniforms at once." For although Harold was hardly the only one wearing a suit and tie, they were in a wide range of colors, as well as a number who simply wore a long-sleeved buttoned shirt above their waist instead of the full suit.

"The administration say it's about allowing individual expression without it turning into a way to divide people up based on how much money their parents make," Harold explained. "Or something like that. Anyway, we're here."

The door that Harold had stopped at was of an orange-painted metal, with a black-and-tan plaque to the left of the door reading "STUDY HALL C" in block text. Along the wall on the right was a mural depicting a forest at night. Snow-covered pine trees rose up towards the cloudless sky, the stars dots of pale yellow against the deep blue. On the right side of the mural, presumably somewhere far in the distance, some unnamed city rose above the trees like light-spattered hands reaching to grasp the heavens.

"That was actually done by one of the students," Harold said as he opened the door. "Kid's a bit out there, but he knows his way around a paintbrush."

The first thing that caught Adam's attention was the large stone door at the far end of the study hall. It was a dark gray, framed in an arch made from the same stone that made it look like something that belonged in a castle instead of a school. The rest of the room, though, looked far more normal for a study hall. Dark wooden computer desks ran the length of one of the walls, the cables spilling out from the back onto the orange carpet. The rest of the room was filled with long tables made from similar wood, tan plastic chairs scattered between the desks.

At one of the tables in the center, two teenage girls sat across from each other. One of them was tall, with brown hair and a white buttoned shirt hanging over a black tee. Despite the textbook that the girl was holding, Adam could make out the words "SCIENCE: Ruining Everything Since 1543" across the black shirt. "Ah, good, you're back," she said without looking up. "It occurred to me that you never got that sample we needed last night. I know those..."

"Not now, Dana," Harold said, just hastily enough for Adam to notice. "There's a new student here."

"Really?" the other girl said, shoulder-length red hair rotating along with the head that bore it as she looked at the new arrivals. Her outfit was somewhat more formal than Dana's, consisting of brown slacks and a tan polo shirt over which she wore an unbuttoned brown suit jacket. A notebook computer sat in front of her, although the angle kept Adam from seeing much if any of the screen. "He scholarship or one of the rich jerks?"

"You're not supposed to draw those distinctions here, Judy," Dana replied, still not looking up from the textbook. "The teachers have been riding you on that since you started here, and you know how Harold feels about using his name to bail you out."

"I'm not the one who drew the class lines," Judy said as she turned back towards her computer. "So stop acting like it's my job to erase them. Besides, I'm sure there's rich kids out there who aren't jerks. Who knows, maybe one of them will even attend the Academy someday."

"Can we put it on pause for a moment?" Harold said forcefully before turning back towards Adam. "Meet Dana Schuler and Judy Keene. Dana, Judy, this is Adam Burton. He just arrived today."

"You think it's him, then?" Dana asked.

"Not. Now." Harold said.

"Then I'm getting back to work on this project," Judy said. "I still need to see if my side-channel attack on a known personal data repository will provide the necessary cryptographically insecure information that I can use to breach the administrative access restrictions on the school network."

"Meaning...what, exactly?" Adam asked.

"She's looking up teachers on Facebook and seeing if any of them used really stupid passwords," Harold said. "Don't worry, the network people signed off on it. It's an internal politics thing."

"And yes, I know it's not technically a side-channel attack," Judy added. "But it really doesn't count as social engineering if they gave away the necessary information without you even needing to contact them to request it."

"I don't know about that," Dana said. "You're attacking the implementation of the system rather than the system itself. It may not be a cryptographic attack, but side-channel would still be an otherwise accurate term, I'd think."

"When did you start paying attention to stuff like that?"

"When I decided that knowledge was important, maybe?"

Harold sighed as the not-quite-squabble between the two girls continued. "They're going to be like this for a while. Feel free to tune them out for now."

"Does..." Adam pauses, trying to remember the name. "Does Judy always talk like that?"

"Only to mess with people she's just met," Harold says. "It's actually a good sign. If she didn't care enough to talk like that, it'd mean she'd just want you to go away and never bug her again."

"If you say so," Adam said. "Anyway, question for you."

"Shoot."

Adam gestured to the stone door at the rear of the study hall. "Where does that door go?"

The conversation stopped as three pairs of eyes fixed themselves on Adam Burton. Dana was the first to speak.

"The stone door at the back of the hall? You can see it?"


	2. The Spark That Set the Flames

Since I need something to pad out the start of each chapter so that it doesn't screw up the formatting on the epigraph, here's a completely pointless disclaimer containing information that should surprise nobody: all the SMT Persona stuff in this belongs to Atlus, I'm not trying to steal it and make my own game or anything, etcetera etcetera.

* * *

><p><em>"Nothing good ever comes from the word 'ordained'."<br>__-Dana Schuler_

* * *

><p>"This is some sort of joke, right?"<p>

To say Adam was confused by the reaction of the other students was something of an understatement, albeit one that fell sort of the level typically used for hyperbolic comparisons such as 'was to say that being on the surface of the sun might warrant turning on a fan'. Still, confusion was indeed the order of the day upon his face, and it didn't take long before Harold hurried to explain.

"No, it's..." He sighed. "Well, it's complicated. And I'm not sure how much of it you'll believe at first." Harold rubbed a finger along his chin. "But the door...cannot be perceived by most students. And every attempt to..."

"I hate to interrupt," Dana said. "Well, actually, given the circumstances, I really don't. Adam, was it?"

Adam nodded.

"Take out your phone, open the camera, and point it at the door."

The youth pulled the phone from his pocket, pointed the camera lens towards the stone door, and tapped the icon. He glanced from the screen to the door, then back to the screen. "It's not there." For instead of an arched stone door, there was a perfectly ordinary wall of black-spackled gray plaster.

"No, it's not," Judy said. "We're not sure why, but for some reason, the three of us are the only ones who can see that door." She paused. "Well, the four of us now."

"And what's..." Adam stopped. "No, this can't be real. This is some kind of joke, right? Some kind of 'ha ha ha, let's all mess with the new kid' type of thing? Use projectors or something to set up a fake door that doesn't show up on a camera?"

"It's quite real," Dana said. "And I'm still not sure how it conceals its existence from others. There appears to be a physical presence, but apparently it's harder to convince random students to touch a blank wall than you might think." As he spoke, she set her textbook down, stood up, and walked towards the door. "For now, I'm working under the hypothesis that the door influences the mind in some fashion, that invisibility is its default state unless someone who is intended to perceive the door looks in its direction. Such an ability would also explain the reluctance by those affected to initiate physical contact with the door; it may even be the same effect that causes the door's invisibility."

Adam blinked, then sighed. "Okay, I'll play along for now. So what's the point of the door? Where does it go?"

"Into shadow," Harold said. "I mean, I could go into a detailed description, but there's really no point to doing so. When Judy and I tried to explain it to Dana after she saw it, all she heard was 'the door leads into shadow'."

"Those exact words," Dana confirmed. "Which is further support for my hypothesis that its properties function by affecting the mind in some manner. Unfortunately, it's difficult to test that in any meaningful fashion. I'm trying to figure out alternate approaches, but I suspect it will take some time still."

"I'll have to take your word for it," Adam said as he walked towards the stone door. "So, when can I actually understand what's on the other side of the door? After I enter?"

Judy nodded. "You go in, you come out, the door stops messing with your ears. Or your brain, I suppose."

Adam came to a stop before the door, his right hand halfway towards its surface. "Wait, is there something that'd keep me from coming out?"

"The door leads into shadow," the others replied, the intonation of the words too perfectly synchronized for it to be natural. Adam, for his park, simply shook his head and sighed. "Of course it does," he muttered. "Alright, let's get some light in there." He reached forward, his fingers touching the stone-

_This door is not open to you, Adam Burton._

Adam froze, and the world froze with him. The words that he "heard" were not spoken, nor did they even have what could be called a voice. Instead, they appeared fully-formed in his head, as though he was imagining them himself.

_Know that the path you walk has already been ordained, and it is not this path. The door shall not open for you until you have reached your destination and awakened your inner self. Be on your guard until then, young champion, for shadows are cast in daylight more easily than at night._

The world sped back up, and Adam jumped backwards before grunting in pain as the inside of his left leg struck a stray chair. The others frowned, but Harold was the first to speak. "Okay, that's probably not what any of us experienced."

"I really hope not," Adam said, rubbing his hand along the sore spot on his leg. "It was some sort of telepathic...thing. It said the door wasn't open yet, and something about an ordained path and shadows cast in daylight."

"Wonderful," Dana said with a frustrated tone. "Nothing good ever comes from the word 'ordained'."

"The rest of that message doesn't sound much better," Harold says. "There's something else that you should know, Adam."

* * *

><p>He sat on a throne, in and before the darkness.<p>

The throne was not in any sort of room or castle, not as human senses could perceive it or human minds could comprehend it. Yet a throne it was, one fit for an entity such as he: a bat-winged entity of ebon chitin and pincers, with a face that was featureless save for three round black eyes and a golden crown covered in spikes.

"Our enemy has brought a new pawn into play, it seems."

Five figures stood in the darkness surrounding the throne, their forms indistinct at best. The noises they made were such that no human tongue could ever hope to mimic them, but the one who sat on the throne understood regardless.

"No. This one has been rejected by Westbrook's door."

One of the figures began to writhe suddenly, its noises raising in volume.

"Indeed. There is only one who would have a higher claim than the door's creator." The figure on the throne paused. "Philemon's servants grow bolder, if one such as he is to be made active in the struggle."

A different figure began to 'speak', if such a term could be applied.

"Naturally," the figure on the throne said. "I cannot let such an act of escalation go unchecked. But it is not as simple as you would wish. Even now, to act openly would incur greater attention from his master and invite greater retaliation. A few stray Shadows are one thing, but ever since the events in..." He stopped. "Ah, of course. That is the key."

The figure on the throne pointed towards the second of the figures in darkness. "You will have your wish, it seems. Gather your forces, for today we shall pluck these thorns from our side."

* * *

><p>"So, the short version is that the Shadows want to kill us all, and you guys can summon stuff to fight them. Am I getting this right?"<p>

Adam found it difficult to keep the doubt from creeping into his voice, despite the encounter with the door. A weird talking door that might not actually exist was one thing, but beings made of living shadow that can be fought by monsters called forth from phones? Well, maybe that wasn't much more implausible than the door, but it was still hard for the new student to wrap his mind around.

"That's a very crude way of putting it," Dana said, "but basically that's it. I'd offer a demonstration, but when either Shadows or Personae show up, bad things seem to happen to electrical devices nearby. The app seems to make our phones immune, but Judy has her computer here, so..."

"Thanks for your concern," Judy said, her voice riding the edge between sarcastic and earnest.

"And Personas...Personae...those are the monsters you guys summon, right?" Adam asked, to which Harold nodded. "We each have one. Mine is called Marduk, Judy's is Hecate, and Dana can call up Vapula."

"I'd ask if this had anything to do with the other side of the door," Adam said, "but I think I already know the answer. Did you come up with the names yourselves, or..."

"No, the door leads into shadow," Dana said, the last five words in the same too-smooth intonation as before.

"Of course," Adam muttered. "Don't know why I expected anything different."

Dana blinked. "Wait, what did you hear me say?"

"The exact words were 'no, the door leads into shadow'," Adam said.

A smile stretched across Dana's face. "Interesting. Let me try a few other statements, tell me which ones you hear. Number one, the door leads into shadow. Number two, I do not need to be on the other side of the door to summon my Persona. Number three, the door leads into shadow. Number four, the door leads into shadow. Number five, we do not know from where the Shadows originate, but we are confident that it is not the other side of the door."

"Two and five were the only statements not replaced," Adam said.

"Fascinating." Dana's eyes were nearly gleaming now. "That means that while the door will censor statements regardless of accuracy, it will only censor affirmative statements about what lies on the other side. Of course, that's with the exception of..." Her voice changed suddenly. "The door leads into shadow."

"And that time you were cut off just after 'with the exception of'," Adam offered.

"As expected," Dana said.

"Yeah, but that doesn't help much," Judy said. "We can run through fifty thousand things that aren't true about the other side of the door without even scratching the surface. It'll be faster to just wait, assuming that what Harold told us is true."

"I'm quite certain that it is. Excessive secrecy aside, he hasn't actually lied to us yet." Harold said.

"Who hasn't?" Adam asked.

"The door leads into shadow," the others replied.

Adam groaned. "Wonderful. So someone who may or may not actually exist is helping you summon monsters to fight other monsters. There's no way that this is going to backfire horribly."

Harold sighed. "We have no choice in the matter, I'm afraid," he said. "I have already seen the Shadows attack other students. Thus far, it has always been late enough at night that the attacks can be written off as bad dreams, but the rumors have begun to circulate nevertheless. Furthermore..." He stopped mid-sentence. "Actually, I do not know if I can finish that sentence without rendering it impossible for you to hear."

"I think I'm starting to hate that door," Adam said.

"Been there," Dana said. "And that's even without taking into account what happened to me when I tried to open it." She frowned. "I'm just glad that..."

Darkness filled the room before she could finish her sentence.

* * *

><p>A red figure stalked through the halls of Westbrook Academy, a horde of Shadows at its flank.<p>

Students and staff alike stood frozen in the greenish dark that had replaced the normal light, the clock refusing to tick from one second into the next. For a moment, the figure pondered attacking one of the frozen students directly, but swiftly decided against it. Even if it was a certainty that the figure's master would approve, holding time still was a difficult enough thing to maintain. To selectively allow time to pass so that his attack could actually cause harm was an even greater challenge. Nyx had resolved the problem in her own way, this much the figure knew. Unfortunately, that was not a power which the figure was permitted to touch.

"They are here somewhere," the red figure said to a pair of Shadows, wheels of black iron with a golden lion's head in the center. "Find them, and lure them to me. We do not have an excess of leisure in this matter, and you will move faster on your own."

The lion-wheels spun in place once, twice, and then rolled into the distance.

"The rest of you," the figure said, "be ready. When the Wheels return, we will need to strike swiftly. A Shadow Hour cannot last forever, and if it collapses while we remain in the Academy…" The sentence was left unfinished. His retribution would be swift and brutal; that much, the figure and the Shadows knew all too well.

* * *

><p>"What the hell?" Adam said, his eyes slowly adjusting. The lights that should have shone down from the ceiling had gone dark, a strange greenish glow that seemed to come from nowhere replacing them. Dana's monitor had gone dark, and a dark fluid that almost seemed to be blood was leaking from cracks in the walls.<p>

"I don't know," Harold said as he reached for his phone. "But there's no chance it's good, and there's even less of a chance that the Shadows aren't involved." Dana and Judy brought their phones out, the screen on each glowing a pure white.

"Marduk!" "Vapula!" "Hecate!"

Three voices rang out, and three new figures appeared. The first stood near Harold: a knight in armor that glowed a faint purple, with a sword as long as the knight was tall strapped across its back. For a moment, Adam thought the knight was something like nine feet in height, but...no, that had to be an illusion of some sort. The ceiling didn't even go that high.

The second figure was more bestial: a black-furred lion with eagle's wings, sitting next to Dana with a glint in its eye that appeared just intelligent enough to prove that the creature was not merely an unthinking beast. And the third figure stood near Judy; a tall, dark-haired woman whose head bore three faces instead of one, wearing long white robes and holding a large, ornate silver key as though it were a club.

"I'm guessing these are Persona, then?" Adam said. Somehow, he couldn't stop himself from accepting the situation at face value. At some level, he was certain, all of this was impossible. The stone door, the bleeding walls, the weird monsters...but whether or not it was indeed fake, he was being swept along by a power he could not halt. The fire would have to burn itself out before Adam could truly let himself contemplate what it had consumed.

"Well, they aren't cats," Judy said. "Except for Dana's, I suppose." The other girl gave Judy an irritated expression that somehow managed to combine eye-rolling with a glare. "Anyway, we'd better get out there and try to contain whatever panic is going on with the students."

"Grab your masks," Harold said, a butterfly-shaped mask already across his face. "And cover up that T-shirt, Dana. It's too recognizable."

"You really want to turn us into a pack of superheroes, don't you?" Dana asked, although she was retrieving a matching mask from her backpack despite the complaint.

"No," Harold said. "I want us to not have to worry about our classes being interrupted by students asking us to use our powers to resolve their disputes. That's why I go by Monarch when I wear this mask."

"So you've got a codename, a secret identity, and superpowers. Face it, 'Monarch', Dana's right. You're..." Judy's voice came to a halt as she opened the door. "One of the only students not currently frozen in time."

Indeed, outside the classroom, a pair of students who would have been walking past, laughing at some unheard joke, were instead frozen like painted statues, their expressions too joyful for the tableau that surrounded them.

Harold's steps slowed, allowing Adam and Dana to catch up. "O...kay," Dana said. "That's certainly new."

"Why aren't we affected?" Adam asked.

"Most likely, it's because of our Persona," Dana said. "Although that doesn't appear to explain why you haven't been frozen as well."

"It could have something to do with the door," Harold said. "Whether or not Adam can summon a Persona, he is able to see it, just like the rest of us."

"Unless the door is an indicator," Dana added. "We might be looking at this the wrong way. The Persona ability and the ability to see the door may actually be caused by..."

"Can we please do this later?" Judy said. "As in, after the..."

The sound of an engine in the distance interrupted Judy.

"Good idea," Harold said. "That had to be the Shadows. Adam, can you get my bag? I've got something in there I might need. The rest of you, we're heading for the main entry. Stick together and move quickly."

Adam ducked away from the door and hurried to the far corner of the room, where a duffel bag made from black nylon sat on an orange plastic chair that had been pulled away from one of the computer desks. Something long and heavy shifted inside the bag as he picked it up and hurried back to the door just as the lion-like Persona made its way outside, leaving Adam to bring up the rear of the group.

"Here," Adam said, handing the bag to Harold, who pulled the zipper open and retrieved a sword. "Good," Harold said. "Dana, we won't be able to swing by the gymnasium to retrieve any archery equipment, so try to let Vapula fight the Shadows for you."

Adam blinked. "Seriously? You guys are..." He sighed. "Fine, whatever, I can freak out over this later. Should I just stay here, or..."

"No," Harold said. "Stay close, but try not to be seen. We can't protect you if you're..."

His reply was cut off by roaring engines, much closer this time. Adam looked up, and let out a shocked cry before throwing himself towards the right wall, barely fast enough to avoid the two Shadows that rolled through where he was standing only seconds ago. They were shaped like spiked wheels of iron, with a golden lion's-head mask in the center.

"Vapula, stop them!" Dana yelled as her Persona lept forward to meet one of the wheels, its jaws clamping down around one of the spikes. The wheel tried to spin away, but Vapula's rear paws pressed down against the floor of the hallway, forcing the sound of a struggling engine to rise from the wheel.

The other turned and began to charge towards Adam, but before he could dodge again, a blast of wind struck it from the side, slamming it against the wall hard enough to leave cracks. Hecate loomed above the fallen wheel, the silver key brandished in her right hand while the left pointed open-palmed towards the Shadow. "They're weak against wind!" Judy yelled. "Lure the wheels towards me!"

The wheel that Vapula held fast spun backwards suddenly, throwing the winged lion loose. Before anyone could react, it rolled away from the group, seizing the opportunity for egress. The other wheel tried to right itself, only for a new blast of wind to strike it. The wheel flew through the air in the direction of its companion, breaking apart into blackened motes of some caliginous material that faded into nothing before they could reach the floor.

"Should we follow it?" Dana asked.

"I'm not sure," Harold said. "But nothing happened when the one was destroyed, so odds are those aren't the only Shadows here. Which means that they're likely acting under orders."

"Do the Shadows even have that level of intelligence?" Judy asked. "They've barely been as smart as animals before."

"We have to assume the answer is 'yes'," Dana replied. "Better to overestimate their capabilities than underestimate them right now."

"We follow, then," Harold said. "But don't drop your guard. This may be an attempt to lure us into an ambush. And if that's the case, then whatever is behind the ambush is probably also behind what happened to the rest of the school."

"So it's an ambush we know is coming," Dana said as Vapula returned to her side. "I guess that's better than the alternative."

* * *

><p>The Wheel was all but trembling as it returned to the red figure's side.<p>

"Only one returns?" the figure said. "They are stronger than I suspected. No matter, they will still not be strong enough to stop us." Its eyes narrowed. "Did they pursue?"

The sound of an idling engine rose from the Wheel, a language that only the Shadows present could understand.

The figure chuckled, a gravelly sound that seemed to rise from the earth itself rather than any being's throat. "Excellent." Its voice rose. "We proceed to the main staircase. Take heart, for our mission shall soon reach its conclusion."

* * *

><p>"Well, we haven't been ambushed yet. That's something."<p>

Harold wasn't sure whether Judy's statement was an indicator that he should be more worried, or that she wasn't worried enough. After a moment of thought, he decided to assume it was both. "That doesn't mean we won't be," he said. "Be ready for the worst."

"You mean besides the whole school being frozen in time?" Adam asked. "What the hell do you people usually encounter? Cultists who worship the living embodiment of death itself?"

Dana blinked. "That's oddly specific."

Adam's shoulders lifted in a not-quite-shrug. "It was in a game I was playing the other day."

"Can we focus, please?" Judy said. "You two are going to..." Her voice stopped suddenly as the group reached the main hall of Westbrook Academy. In the greenish not-light, the banners that hung from the walls were unreadable, and the display cases on either side of the main doors held objects with indistinct shapes. The beings standing at the top of the large staircase in the center of the hall were recognizable, though: Shadows of all shapes and kinds. Some were like the wheels that had attacked earlier, while still more were the masked blobs that had been fought previously. Others were in the shape of tables, or muscular men, or disembodied hands, or any number of things.

Standing in front of them all, though, was a red figure with white, batlike wings extending from its back. It was human-shaped, at least somewhat, with angular armor plating roughly in the shape of a semicircle along its too-long purple arms. From the back of its scaled legs protruded six white tentacles, which were at least for the moment mercifully still. Its head could only be described as demonic, with long red horns protruding from either side of its head. It wore a theater mask that seemed to shift from black to white depending on the angle, although the mask did nothing to hide either its long chin or the additional pair of red horns that extended from it.

The figure looked towards the four students and the three Persona, and let out a low laugh. "Just as I expected, the prey has sought out the predator. It is good to see that my servant's sacrifice was not in vain." It stepped forward, and although the mask made it impossible to tell, Adam was certain that the figure grinned. "Behold, mortals," it said as it made a grand sweeping gesture with its right arm. "You stand in the presence of Ahriman."

As unfamiliar as he was, Adam could still tell that his companions were caught very much off-guard by the strange Shadow and its bold proclamation. Dana was the first to speak. "You're...not like the others."

"Indeed," Ahriman said. "My servants, although certainly loyal, are...lesser entities. Make no mistake, however. I am a Shadow...the true self. His true self."

"Whose true self?" Harold asked.

Ahriman laughed again, although the tone was one of genuine amusement rather than cold mockery. "You do not know? Has Philemon truly kept you in the dark? Tch...I suppose I should not be surprised. Truth has long been the tyrant's greatest foe, and mark my words: your master is the greatest tyrant in the history of the human species."

Dana exhaled sharply as Vapula growled. "Last I knew, Philemon wasn't the one naming himself after the incarnation of evil."

Ahriman shook its head. "You truly are blind. It is almost a pity that I will be unable to open your eyes. But the one I serve has commanded that you perish, and I have no wish to disappoint him." It held out its right hand, black motes coalescing into the shape of a sword. Unlike Harold's, the black blade wielded by Ahriman was a simple one, with a narrow blade and triangular tip. "Make peace with your god while you still have the chance."

Marduk charged forward, its sword held low and to the side. Several Shadows leaped past Ahriman, but Marduk's blade swept upward and cleaved them in two. Unfortunately, this left an opening which Ahriman was easily able to exploit, its black sword slicing upward and sending the Persona's blade out of its hands, flying to the right and landing mere inches away from where Adam was crouched.

Ahriman delivered a kick to Marduk's chest, sending the Persona staggering backwards. A pair of tentacles lashed forward and wrapped themselves around Marduk's legs, turning the stagger into a tumble down the stairs. "Pathetic," the Shadow said as it strode down the stairs. "Weak and pathetic. How you have endured this long is truly beyond my comprehension."

Judy screamed in fury, and Hecate responded in kind, her left hand striking outward as she summoned the same blast of wind that had so grievously harmed the wheels earlier. Yet Ahriman did not show the same weakness; the wind swept straight past as though the Shadow was not even there. Hecate swing her silver key at Ahriman, only to have it parried by the black sword.

"Now!" Dana yelled, and Vapula leapt from Ahriman's left side, its jaws crackling with lightning as the Persona-beast bit down on the Shadow's right wing. A snarl rose from Ahriman's throat, and one of the hand-shaped Shadows leapt towards Vapula. The winged lion's position left it unable to dodge, and the Shadow's fingers were soon clenched tightly around Vapula's chest. The Persona whined faintly, but did not release its grasp until Ahriman flung itself towards one of the display cases. The sound of crashing glass filled the room, but the force was enough to dislodge Vapula's teeth. The Persona was thrown free, crashing into Hecate and sending both to the ground.

"I had truly hoped for worthy opponents," Ahriman said, slowly and purposefully walking towards Harold. The student drew his sword and dropped into a defensive stance, but Ahriman did not waver even slightly. "But then, I suppose that you had hoped to survive these events. It would seem neither of us shall get what we want this day."

The black sword flashed, too fast for Harold to properly parry. His blade flew out of his grasp, landing a foot away. "Farewell, Harold Westbrook," Ahriman said. It raised the black sword for the killing blow. Adam tried to scream something...a warning, maybe, or a plea. He wasn't certain of anything, save that there were words that needed to leap from his throat.

But before Adam could speak, a black void engulfed him.

* * *

><p>The void lasted for maybe an instant before changing to a new color: blue. A blue that Adam felt was far too familiar.<p>

It did not take long for him to realize why; the blue marble of the floor was still seared into his memory, as were the wooden benches facing a lectern that rose seamlessly from the floor. And neither could Adam forget the man who stood at the lectern: a short, elderly figure with a too-long nose and bulging, bloodshot eyes that were just as white as his hair.

Igor gestured, and the lectern melted into the floor. "Welcome to the Velvet Room, Adam Burton," he said. "It is good to see you again, for we still have...very important business to discuss."


	3. Thou Art I

Since I need something to pad out the start of each chapter so that it doesn't screw up the formatting on the epigraph, here's a completely pointless disclaimer containing information that should surprise nobody: all the SMT Persona stuff in this belongs to Atlus, I'm not trying to steal it and make my own game or anything, etcetera etcetera.

* * *

><p><em>"...that you may know it for what it truly is."<br>__-Igor_

* * *

><p>For a moment, Adam was unable to speak. "What...where..." Then the events of the preceding seconds caught up to him, and he simply sighed. "Great. Because things weren't crazy enough already."<p>

"I suppose it would be rude for me to act as though I was unfamiliar with the events you have experienced," Igor said. "Yet I must be certain: do you recall our previous conversation?"

"Is this a joke?" Adam said. "Harold's probably dead by..."

"He remains alive, young one," Igor interrupted. "The clock has been stopped twice over; so long as you remain present in the Velvet Room, time will not pass even within the Shadow Hour."

"The what?"

Igor smiled. "The environment in which your new friends have been forced into battle with Ahriman. Sadly, it is a battle they will soon lose. You have seen as much yourself; Ahriman's power is too great for your friends as they are."

Adam frowned. "I'm guessing that's why I'm here, then. You want me to sign that contract you talked about earlier, and in return, you'll keep them alive."

"Not precisely," Igor said. "But the contract will make it possible for them to survive. The power to save your friends sleeps inside you even now. I can teach you how to awaken it; to touch the vast sea that lurks within and around all of humanity, and in so doing draw upon it."

"So long as I sign the contract."

Igor nodded. "There is a price, as there is with all things. Choose to take the left fork in a road, and the cost is whatever lay down the right fork. Accepting the power to save your friends will have consequences. It will set you down a path which has long been ordained, a path that will allow you to shape your world's future into what you desire. I cannot permit you to wield such power if you are unable to accept what it means to do so."

"Seems kind of like you're cheating, though," Adam said. "I mean, if I don't sign the contract, it's pretty obvious that I'm going to die. I don't have much of a choice in the matter."

It was Igor's turn to frown. "There is always a choice, young one. Even in matters of life or death, you can always choose the latter. It may be an undesirable choice, but this does not mean that it is not a choice."

"No, in this case, that's exactly what it means," Adam said. "If I were to die because I refused to kill someone else, nobody in their right mind would call it suicide. You can't just say 'he had a choice' when the other option is death."

"But in that very situation," Igor said, "you are choosing who is to live and who is to die. And not all will choose that the other should die, nor will all choose that they themselves should die."

"And you see no difference between that and choosing between 'four people die' or 'four people live'?"

"Four people die, or an intelligent Shadow dies," Igor responded. "You are still choosing who lives and who dies. If you cannot accept this burden, I cannot grant you the power to save your friends."

"Fine. Just...just give me a moment," Adam said, sighing faintly. _Igor's wrong. I really don't have a choice. Nobody in my situation would. I can't just lie down and die, not when I can stand and fight._ "Death may yet come to claim me one day," he said at last. "But it will not be this day. Give me the contract."

Igor passed a piece of paper to Adam, along with a red-feathered quill pen. He took the paper and the pen, and signed the bottom. "What happens now?"

"What was always meant to happen," Igor said as he took the pen and paper back. He raised his right hand to Adam's cheek. "I will show you the mask which you have so long worn, that you may know it for what it truly is."

Igor's hand pulled away, and a sudden flash of blue light forced Adam's eyes to close.

* * *

><p>When Adam's eyes opened again, he was no longer in the Velvet Room.<p>

He stood once again in the green-lit main hall of Westbrook Academy. Harold was facing away from him and towards Ahriman, the Shadow's sword sword about to cleave through his chest just as it was before Igor's not-quite-intervention. He opened his mouth, ready to try to scream that uncertain warning once again; but instead, something new rose from his throat. A single word that cried out to be freed from its chains, to be spoken and thus released.

He couldn't stop himself. The word was very nearly a choked whisper, as though each syllable had to fight its way to his tongue. But the word was spoken nevertheless.

"Per...so...na..."

A blinding white light engulfed Adam Burton as time began to return to, if not normal, at least to whatever state permitted the four students to move about. Ahriman growled in frustration, the appearance of the light just enough of an irritant to delay the killing blow for a few precious seconds. Judy's eyes narrowed as she turned her head away out of reflex, while Dana lowered her gaze and covered her brow just enough to keep the light from causing serious harm. Harold, for his part, merely smiled.

_I am thou. Thou art I._

Adam wasn't sure where the words were coming from, or if they were coming from anywhere at all. They were directed towards him, though, and him alone: of that much, at least, he was absolutely certain.

_From the sea of thy soul, I come._

The light that surrounded him began to take on a shape, a humanlike figure interposing itself between Ahriman and Harold. The Shadow's blade struck the figure of light, and a metallic ring filled the air as the weapon was deflected away.

_I am the light of tomorrow's hopes, the protector born of the sun._

Ahriman snarled something impossible to understand, and the remaining Shadows that stood at its back charged as one towards the glowing figure. Its right arm swept forward, and each and every one of the Shadows burst into pure white flame.

_I am Talos. And my power is thine._

And for the first time in its memory, Ahriman knew fear.

The Shadow turned to run, but before it could make it two steps, the glowing figure pointed forward. A lance of incandescent fire leaped forward from the outstretched finger, piercing Ahriman's back and emerging from its chest. For a brief instant, the figure's shape was different, covered in blocky armor that seemed to press upon the sides of its head. Then the instant passed, the figure regained its previous shape, and Ahriman exploded into motes of black.

The light shining from the figure began to dim, revealing its true form: an animate bronze statue of a man in ancient Greek armor, holding a spear in its right hand. The statue raised the spear before striking the butt of it against the floor, then vanished.

"Well," Harold said, turning from the spectacle to face Adam. "That was..."

"What the hell was that?" Adam yelled before Harold could finish.

"Your Persona, I would assume," Dana said. "Although I never imagined that one with such strength could..."

"Ahriman never saw it coming," Judy added. "Kind of wish we could have interrogated a talking Shadow, though, or at least kept it talking longer before it actually attacked us. We probably could have learned a few things about certain topics that Philemon keeps trying to avoid about whenever we meet with him."

"And who exactly is Philemon anyway?" Adam said.

The others turned as one to face Adam, shocked expressions visible once again on their faces. "You understood her that time?" Harold said. "Then, the door..."

The greenish illumination flickered, and those students who remained frozen in time began to move, although nearly too slowly to perceive.

"Get rid of your Personas, now!" Harold yelled, reaching to pull his mask free. The others did the same as Marduk, Vapula, and Hecate glowed faintly before disappearing from sight. Harold ran for his sword, shoving it back into his duffel bag just as the greenish not-light was replaced with ordinary light, and the rest of the school returned to the ordinary flow of time once again.

A small pack of students near the broken display case stopped suddenly and began to talk, although Adam could only hear snatches of their conversation. "When did..." "...have sworn that was in..." "...too, but I guess..." "...we don't get..."

"I think we're clear," Judy said. "At least, nobody's screaming about monsters or anything. Let's get back to the door. If you can understand us when we mention Philemon, then you might actually be able to actually go through it now."

* * *

><p>He sat on a throne, in and before the darkness, and screamed.<p>

The scream that rose from the bat-winged entity who sat upon the throne was not one of pain, although it had some resemblance. Nor was it a scream of shock, though this was present as well. It was a scream of anger, of rage at a great wrong that had been inflicted upon him. The scream echoed in the darkness, and only when it had faded did he speak.

"Ahriman has fallen."

The four figures that surrounded the throne and its figure spoke, if such a term could be applied to whatever language they used within the darkness.

"Philemon's newest champion. It would appear that he is stronger than I had suspected. And the power he commands...it has grown rare in recent years, but those who command it have performed deeds of great import." A low rumbling rose from the figure atop the throne. "I may yet be forced to risk the consequences of an open assault." It paused. "Fortunately, Ahriman's defeat was not in vain. Having so many of my servants present was enough for me to confirm what I suspected about Westbrook Academy."

If the figure could smile, its tone of voice made it clear that it would indeed be doing so. "The power I seek has indeed been hidden within those walls. And it is only a matter of time before it becomes mine to command."

* * *

><p>The walk back to the study hall which housed the strange stone door seemed to take longer than the walk to the main entryway. Perhaps because it technically was taking longer, Adam thought to himself; after all, time was no longer frozen in the green not-light. Or maybe it was the cooldown from the adrenaline and the strange events; the need to focus on what was happening then and there might have prevented a more accurate assessment. Or maybe it was entirely imagined. After all, Adam never had been good with estimating how long something would take.<p>

Regardless of the truth, the group was silent as they made their way back. This, at least, made sense to Adam: Harold was quite clear regarding his concerns about what would happen should their abilities become public knowledge. No doubt any actual attempts at discussion would be shut down forcefully, at least until they were no longer in earshot of other students.

Indeed, once they had returned to the otherwise-vacant hall and closed the door, the other members of his group began to speak. "I couldn't have imagined that anyone could have a Persona that strong," Judy said as she made her way through the tables and chairs, the others close behind. "But how could you be capable of it when..."

"Philemon did refer to him as a champion," Harold said. "If you want to ask him why, well, this is going to be as good a time as any."

"Assuming he doesn't just wave it off by saying something about forbidden knowledge," Dana replied. "Like he does every other time we tried to get any detailed information out of him. It's like talking to a..." She stopped as the group of four students reached the stone door. "Well, it's like talking to something." She pressed her hand to the door, and with a grinding noise, it slowly began to swing open. From where he stood, Adam could only make out a white stone floor lit solely by the fluorescent lighting of the study hall. "Shall we?"

Judy bent over slightly as she passed through the doorway, followed by Harold. Adam stepped forward, hesitantly, still half-expecting to he sent staggering backwards as before. Yet this did not happen: his feet passed from carpet to marble as he stepped into the darkness, Dana close behind. The door slammed shut as she passed through.

It took a moment for Adam's eyes to adjust to the darkness, but it was not nearly so long a moment as he had expected. He could not see any light source, but a black marble table was plainly visible in the center of the strange room, across from which stood a young man facing away from the group. He wore a black shirt and pants, with long brown hair tied back into a ponytail. "There are four of you this time," he said in an eerily calm voice. "Your champion has awakened to his potential."

"It's good to see you too, Philemon," Judy said, her words too dry to be interpreted as sincere. "A day where we fight Shadows who actually talk just isn't complete without meeting with a guy in a butterfly mask who keeps telling us that we seek forbidden knowledge."

The man in the black clothes turned around at that statement. He wore a butterfly mask that seemed a perfect match to those held by Harold, Judy and Dana. "That you feel the need to resort to sarcasm betrays your impatience," Philemon said. "Still, it is not unexpected that your encounter with Ahriman has raised several new questions."

"Such as what exactly that Shadow really was," Harold said, the four students already standing in what would be a semicircle around the table had it been round rather than rectangular. "And how Adam was able to kill it that fast. I've never seen anything like it before."

"Impatience was Ahriman's undoing," Philemon said. "As it has been with so many others. Had the assault been delayed until after the moon rose, the invading forces would have been stronger, as would have Ahriman. Instead, a Shadow Hour was created, allowing the invasion to occur unseen by any without your abilities. The Shadows escalated the conflict, and thus I responded in kind." He turned to face Adam. "It was by my will that Talos was permitted to wield a greater power. So long as..." Philemon trailed off. "Well, suffice to say that you should not expect me to intervene in that manner again."

"So long as what?" Adam asked, to which Dana rolled her eyes. "Here we go," she muttered.

Philemon frowned. "I cannot answer your question without revealing..."

"Forbidden knowledge," Judy said bitterly, interrupting Philemon. "Seriously? We would have gotten killed if not for whatever you did with Adam's Persona, and you're still not going to tell us why?" She grimaced. "You may not be a tyrant, but Ahriman was right about one thing: the truth really is your greatest foe."

Philemon's eyes seemed to widen, and for the first time that any of the four students present could remember, emotion entered his voice. Apprehension, perhaps, or anger. It was not entirely clear. "What were Ahriman's precise words?"

"You know we're not going to remember them accurately now," Dana said. "He called you the greatest tyrant humanity has ever known, though, that much I'm sure of. Kind of seems like a ridiculous thing to say, though, given the obvious."

"And he spoke of a master that he served," Harold added. "A master who wanted us dead."

"I see." Philemon's voice was calm again, the shift sending a shiver down Adam's spine for some unknown reason. "Then there is knowledge that is no longer forbidden. I shall tell you of Ahriman's master. A counterpart to myself, against whom I once struggled fiercely enough to transform this world and beyond. And so I gathered allies; Persona wielders like yourselves. And in the end, he was defeated. Destroying him, however, was something impossible. Ahriman's master is the embodiment of an archetype bound deep within the collective soul of humanity, and so long as that archetype exists, Nyarlathotep will always endure and be reborn."

Dana blinked. "Nyarlathotep? You're not talking about the guy from the Cthulhu stories, are you?"

Philemon smiled. "Not precisely. Nyarlathotep was not always his name. As I said, he is the embodiment of an archetype. The evil that he represents has worn many faces and had many names over the years. Which is fitting, I suppose, given the identity that he has now taken."

"And what exactly is he after?" Adam asked.

"Simply put," Philemon said, "chaos. Nyarlathotep is evil made manifest. Every emotion that your species denies, every urge you seek to repress, everything that you will not permit yourself to be: these are what feed Nyarlathotep, and what give strength to his armies."

"Shadows," Dana said. "Well, that explains the name, at least."

"What I don't get is why you won't actually fight him," Judy said. "If he's that much of a threat to us, why are you hiding in whatever this place is rather than actually kicking his ass?"

"No, that much I think I understand," Dana said. "Stop me if I get this wrong, Philemon. You and Nyarlathotep are fighting over something important, to us as well as you. The problem is, if you put too much strength into the fight, you'll end up destroying the prize. You can't battle openly and with all your power, so you use us as proxies much like Nyarlathotep uses his Shadows. That way, the battle won't escalate to a level where neither of you will get what you want. Sort of a mutually assured destruction thing, only with monsters instead of nuclear weapons."

Harold and Judy turned towards Dana with widened eyes. "How the...how did you figure that out?" Judy asked.

Dana shrugged. "It's kind of obvious if you look at what Philemon has said."

"How the hell is any of that 'obvious'? I mean, the part about us being proxies, yes, but..."

Philemon raised his hand, palm outward, and the two girls fell silent. "Dana's assessment is a...reasonable analogy, yes," he said. "It is not wholly accurate, but the errors are in many ways trivial ones, with no meaningful impact on the conclusion she has reached."

"So," Harold said. "What now? I can't imagine Nyarlathotep or...that name is not going to be fun to keep saying. Anyway, doubt he'll take Ahriman's defeat lying down. Should we be preparing for something else, or..."

"I am not yet certain what schemes he will set in motion," Philemon replied. "For now, I can only suggest that you be vigilant. It is extremely unlikely that Ahriman was his most powerful servant. There will be others."

"Well, I guess that's about all we're getting out of Captain Butterfly today," Judy said. "Let's go. My free period ends in like ten minutes." She turned and began to walk to where the door once stood, Dana and Harold close behind. Adam moved to follow, but the touch of a gloved hand on his shoulder stopped him before he could move.

"I would ask that you not leave just yet," Philemon said as he circled to Adam's front. "An associate of mine wishes to speak with you."

"You have associates?"

"That is, I suppose, one word that can be used to describe me," came a familiar voice from behind the youth. He turned around, and saw Igor emerge from the shadows.

* * *

><p>"Igor?" Adam said. "I thought...this isn't the Velvet Room, is it?"<p>

"No," Igor said. "But it is a place of similar design, and created by the same individual." He gestured to Philemon. "Time is folded upon itself here; despite Judy's protests, she would have had those ten minutes whether or not she had remained."

"Like the Shadow Hour?"

"It is a similar power," Philemon said. "Drawn from much the same wellspring. Your power, on the other hand, is of a different nature."

"I referred to Talos earlier as the mask you had so long worn," Igor said. "But Talos is not the only mask that you have worn, nor the only mask that you can wear."

"The Shadows commanded by Nyarlathotep are fragments of humanity's darkest desires," Philemon added. "When you defeat them, you will be able to...comprehend some part of the individual from whom that desire rose."

"Their masks can become your own," Igor said. "And through this you will gain the ability to summon other Personas. They will be weak at first, but you can strengthen them."

"Your ties to the rest of humanity will help you in this," Philemon said. "These connections...links, if you will...can aid you in comprehending the nature of others, and thus aid you in strengthening those Personas that you call forth."

"Simply put," Igor said, "by spending time connecting with others, the links will grow. And as they grow, you will be able to draw upon greater power when you claim your new masks."

"You mean new Persona?" Adam asked.

"Precisely," Igor replied. "Although these battles are not the only means by which you can obtain these masks. I have the ability to fuse Personas together, bringing forth something new. It is a power that you will doubtlessly find necessary, if you are to stand against Nyarlathotep."

"Should you need to seek out Igor for this task," Philemon said, "you need only concentrate on the Velvet Room when opening the stone door. It will bring you there, just as it has brought you here."

Adam exhaled slowly. "This is a lot to take in."

"You will have time," Igor said. "For now, I suggest that you speak with your new friends. Although they do not share this power, they do have the benefit of experience when it comes to understanding Shadows."

"Farewell, Adam Burton," Philemon said. "For now, anyway."

Adam turned around, and saw the stone door standing open, a yellowish glow emerging from the opening. "Well, I'll see you around, apparently," he said, and stepped through.

* * *

><p>The others had barely gotten more than two steps away from the school-side of the door before Adam emerged from its depths.<p>

_I guess Igor was telling the truth about the way time works in there_, he thought to himself before opening his mouth to speak. "Is...that how these things always go?"

"Not always," Judy said. "Usually Philemon's even more vague and evasive. That whole thing about Nyarlathotep? That was the most informative he's been since I met him."

"When was that, anyway?" Adam asked.

"About a month and a half ago," Judy said.

"I found the door two months ago," Harold added. "And Dana came across it a week after Judy." He paused. "You seem rather less disconcerted than any of us did after we went through that door for the first time."

"What do you mean?" Adam asked.

"You didn't..." Dana started to say. "No, I guess not. Each of us...we encountered something when we opened it. A version of ourselves that..." She stopped. "It was unpleasant, and I'd rather not go into much detail about it. I don't know how you managed to avoid that encounter, but frankly, I'm a bit jealous."

Adam frowned. "You didn't get a lecture from a weird old guy about a contract and the price you had to pay for the power, then?"

Harold shook his head. "No. I think I can safely assume that you're the only one of us who had that happen." He pressed his right hand to his forehead and sighed. "And I guarantee you that if we asked Philemon about it, he'd go right back into one of his forbidden knowledge monologues."

"Well, now that we've made things even more confusing than they were before," Judy said, "why don't we just figure out what our plans for for any more Shadows so that I can get to class on time?"

"Hopefully, there won't be any tonight," Harold said. "From what Philemon said, it sounded like the ones that would be out there tonight were part of Ahriman's attack. Still, just in case we do get some stragglers, Dana and I can do some patrols. We'll text the two of you if we see something we can't handle." He paused. "Actually, I don't have your number, do I, Adam?"

Adam shook his head.

"I'll have to take care of that before we leave, then," Harold said. "I guess if nothing else comes up, then I'll see the rest of you outside the door at noon tomorrow. Adam should have his class schedule by then, so that'll help with planning our later meetings."

"So we'll meet back here, then?" Adam asked.

"No," Dana said. "The door moves around. Every midnight, it jumps somewhere else. We've figured out everywhere it goes, though." She reached for her phone. "I've got the list here somewhere...if I recall correctly, there are twenty-two different locations that the door cycles through. In other words, come the 30th, it'll be back in this study hall."

"And tomorrow?"

"Ms. Lacey's classroom, it seems," Dana said after a few taps. "She's one of the math teachers. Second floor, northern wing of the school. There's a map on the school's website if you get lost."

"Alright," Adam said. "Guess that's when I'll be talking to most of you next. Although I have to say, before we go...this was certainly not what I expected from my first day at school."

Harold began to laugh; a quiet laugh of genuine amusement, that soon had Judy and Dana joining in. "No," he said after a few seconds. "No, I guess it wouldn't have been. But it's good to know that you'll be with us on this." He paused. "I still need your phone number, by the way."

Adam smiled. "Right. Almost forgot."

* * *

><p><em>I am thou...<em>

_Thou art I..._

_Thou shalt be empowered when creating a Persona of the Fool Arcana..._

* * *

><p>He knelt in a darkened room, and spoke to his master.<p>

The small room in which he knelt was hardly the ideal place for such communication. Even though his master had no physical form, the hardness of the floor made it a very uncomfortable place to kneel. He had considered sewing padding into the brown hooded robes that he wore, but had never gotten around to it. He doubted his master would care; it was not as though he required any specific attire. His master did not even require that he kneel. Still, as with the robes, it felt appropriate to do so.

"No, milord. I examined the seals personally, and there were no signs of an attempt. The creation of a Shadow Hour did not result in the vaults being breached."

His master spoke, in a voice that none could hear. Not even himself. Still, the meaning of the words was clear enough.

"I have done what I could to explain away the damage done by the fight with Ahriman. There should be no questions asked; frankly, the students were just happy that they weren't taking the blame for it."

He frowned at his master's next question. "It is possible, yes. Especially if as many Shadows were present as you claim. Still, the precise location of the vaults should still remain unknown to him. Once the moon begins to wane, I can..."

He grimaced as his master's desires entered his mind.

"Milord, that...will not be an easy task to accomplish without aid. It would be far easier were I permitted to reveal myself to Harold and his circle of wielders. Now that Adam has joined them, they are far more..."

He fell silent as his master spoke.

"Very well. If the ordained path requires that I remain silent, then I shall do so. Thy will shall be done, Lord Philemon."


End file.
